After his meteoric rise to superstardom, Jim O'Brien is no longer a small-town boy who plays in bars and dreams of success. His handsome face is plastered on the covers of celebrity gossip magazines, and his voice alone is enough to make girls swoon...
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Despite our age difference, Harper and I had many things in common. Our love for reading was one of them. Our passion for running was another.
I was still in high school when I accompanied Harper on her morning run for the first time. Back then, my lack of stamina and low endurance wouldn't allow me to complete her usual route, but the habit of running almost daily when I lived in Marseille turned me into someone fairly athletic.
"You're a bit slow this morning, Doctor Lincoln," I said to my friend when we reached the promenade.
Harper slowed and placed her hands on her knees, panting.
"I know. Blame it on the little sleep I've gotten over the last few days. Work's been insane."
I wiped the sweat off my forehead. "Dad said the same. Luckily, he'll be home tonight."
Harper rubbed my arm. "Of course. He's thrilled to spend Christmas Eve with you. Your dad missed you a lot when you were away."
"I missed him, too. Coffee?"
"Always." Harper smiled, and we strolled toward a coffee shop overlooking the marina.
After getting our cappuccinos, we took a table by the window.
"So, you never told me about the date with Mister Cute," I said, studying Harper's slightly flushed face.
She groaned, smoothing out her dark hair. "I didn't for a reason. He was cute but also boring. We didn't have a single thing in common. I was eating my steak and looking forward to going home to read."
"Ouch."
Harper took a sip of her hot coffee and sighed, looking out of the window at the gray morning sky. "Maybe my expectations are too high. Handsome and smart, and passionate about something. Do those guys even exist?"
"Your expectations seem okay to me. What's the fun in dating someone if you can't have an interesting conversation?"
"There was no chemistry, either. No connection."
"So, no second date?"
"No second date. It's me, my wine, and my books again. I might also delete all the dating apps from my phone. They proved to be useless, anyway."
"Poor Doctor Lincoln."
Harper shrugged, taking a few more sips of her cappuccino.
"Well, enough about me," she said in her usual cheerful tone. "How have you been these few days at home?"
"I spent forever cleaning and rearranging stuff in my room. Today, I'm going to decorate our Christmas tree. Oh, and I met a guy the other day."
Harper squinted. "We need details to diagnose the patient. Don't withhold crucial information."
